Collide
by yjcalvini
Summary: A different take on June 25, 2009 where MJ lives. This story is completed and if reviewed I will upload a chapter every week.


Posted 03 October 2009 - 01:12 PM

**I started writing this what-if fic a couple of days ago in my mind. This is just the prologue and first chapter. The story is set June 28, 2009  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone in this story except the minor characters I create in the hospital setting, etc.  
Please leave feedback.  
COLLIDE By: Ahenobarbi  
Prologue:  
"Okay, Michael you ready?" Those were the last words he remembered hearing before waking up in the Ronald Reagan Medical Center in Los Angeles. After his nightly dosage of Diprivan he'd slipped into that wonderful and magical place where his trials and tribulations did not exist. The second star to the right and straight on til morning; that was the place where he belonged. He could be Peter Pan, King of his domain and the leader of the Lost Boys. No one ever said 'Michael you need to grow up!' when he was in that dreamy realm. The moment he stepped foot on that plain of imagination, time stood still and children were children forever. The Lost Boys…Michael didn't think anyone else realized how significant Peter Pan was to those who followed him. They didn't understand the weight of responsibility that lay on that brave boy's shoulders. Pan had an adversary who seemed relentless in his torment of him for no other reason than because he liked to cause havoc in Pan's world. Michael could relate to that, Hook was all around him in the chilling reality that he was forced to face on a daily basis. He found solace in protecting his friends from the evil that lived along side them. The Lost Boys were boys without families and seemingly without hope. But Pan united them, Tootles, Slightly, Nibs, Curly, and the twins; Peter found them alone and without care so he whisked them away to his shelter, a place where no one could harm them ever again. A land where nothing was impossible if you believed hard enough… a place called, 'Neverland'.  
Try as he might, Peter couldn't keep the Lost Boys children forever. They grew up, they left Peter and Neverland…Peter was alone, again. Well, not exactly he had Tinker Bell who Michael always likened to Liz. Yes, Liz was his little 'Tink', she was feisty but loveable, his biggest advocate and constant companion. They'd shared many an adventure and weathered quite a few storms against Hook. Through it all Tink had come through for him and provided light in the darkness of his psyche. He had the ability to do anything he wanted to do, he could fly over the length of Neverland, bring the wonders of his mind into existence with a single thought…but still there was that haunting feeling. Peter knew; Michael knew the truth about the real world. The real world was inescapable; there was no permanent way out of returning to what they abhorred. Sooner or later they would have to wake up from their slumber, they would have to grow up; and that was something they both feared…  
CHAPTER ONE, Part 1  
Neverland was wiped away in a single afternoon, destroyed beyond recognition…Hook had won. Peter had failed in his quest for eternal youth. He'd let his guard down and the Pirates had vanquished his magical home and trampled over every wonderful memory that he had experienced in that place. Gone was the sound of childish laughter and merriment; only to be replaced with the stomping of boots and the taunting voices of his assailants. With pleasure Hook degraded and humiliated Pan. His sword was smashed to a million pieces before his very eyes, his trademark green garments were ripped from his back; and he was ejected from creative wonder. Now mentally destitute and driven from his beautiful Neverland, Peter bravely turned his gaze and thoughts from what had been to what could be. For a time he was determined to never look back on the tragedy that had become his life; but soon he turned his sights to anger and hatred for that imaginary land. It was fictitious; it never existed except in his mind. He had lied to himself; Neverland was always in his mind, it was nothing more than a simple hope, a dream of a better life. It was this reality that had brought him out of the coma. His vision was blurry at first and then slowly came into focus. He hadn't been quite sure where he was until he heard an all too familiar beeping sound. It was that same beeping sound that he heard when he woke up at the hospital in New York when Lisa…no, he wasn't going to think about her. He squinted his eyes and looked around the room. He was alone, that in itself was no surprise. Michael had gotten use to being alone over the years. He noticed the wires and I.V.'s that seemed to be connected to every part of his upper body. He tried to move but the pain in his chest and abdomen was too much to bear. Lifting his head was a lost cause as well, a wave of dizziness over took him and his head fell back against a pillow. 'How the hell did I get here?' He asked himself. A thousand questions began to run through his mind. He had only been asleep for a few hours, hadn't he? Why was he in the hospital? Was he still in L.A? Where was Murray, where were his children? The door to his room was to the right and he could see tiny shadows of feet walking back and forth and he heard chatter that only came through as murmurings. Looking ahead of him was an array of 'Get Well' cards and pictures taped to the wall. There was a group of flowers to his left sitting in front of a lone window. It looked like dusk or just before sunrise, Michael couldn't get a fix on time, his mind was still foggy. That's what he hated about Diprivan, it was sometimes so hard to wake up, and he'd get caught between sleep and consciousness. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang and the swift opening of the door. A man came barreling through in a panic. All Michael could do was lay there and watch as the overzealous man raised his Canon camera and began to take pictures. The flashes from the camera blinded him, he could find no strength to raise his hand and block the flashes or the shots of him in such a vulnerable state. "Get him!" Someone yelled just outside the door. In an instant two men who were dressed in black scrubs tackled the cameraman to the floor. The camera fell just out of his reach about a foot in front of the melee and the man reached for it but was beat to the punch by a nurse who had come running in after the two orderly's. "How dare you, what the hell is wrong with you people?" She started to turn the camera over in her hands searching for the film compartment. "Get him up Max." In one quick swoop the orderly's had hoisted the intruder up and continued to hold him. "Hey give it back, that's my property!" The man tried in vain to wrench himself free of his captors. "This is a private room and you have no right in here." She was still examining the camera when the cameraman spoke again. "Its digital sweet heart, it doesn't require film." The man smiled coyly as if he'd won. "Oh, thanks for telling me." Without hesitation she threw the camera down hard against the floor. Michael wanted to laugh but no reaction came except from a very perturbed photographer. "You *****, you're gonna pay for that! I'll sue this entire hospital, that's my property!" "Get him out of here!" The nurse was unfazed by the threat and smirked as the orderly's carried the man out. "Moron." She bent down to start picking up the pieces that had broken off of the camera. Michael sucked in a hard breath in an effort to speak but the breathing tubes in his nose caused him to gag and go into a painful coughing fit. Alarms started to go off and the nurse snapped to attention. "Oh my God, I need some help in here!" She shouted as she rushed to her patient's side. Michael's eyes shut tight against his will and he could no longer see what was going on around him. He heard panicked voices shouting orders to one another and frantic hands grabbing at the tubes and I.V's on his body. "He's going into shock…" darkness suddenly enveloped his being and all sound ceased. Random images flowed through his mind: he and his brothers on stage at Ed Sullivan show, his father whipping him for missing a dance step; the Pepsi ordeal, the allegations, every dramatic moment in his short life. Despair began to overtake him; but then a ray of hope broke through the worst of memories…actually it was three rays of hope. His children's births, every one of them, he could see them smiling and having fun on birthdays, Christmas and casual outings. Their voices in unison saying ever so gently, 'I love you daddy', that played over and over in his mind's eye, drowning out the terribleness of his life without them. No, he wouldn't let them down; he had to fight this crushing darkness. Suddenly something came to him, something that his mother had taught him when he was a boy. 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…what was the rest of it? The shadow of death…I will fear no evil for…for…thou art with me…' "Clear!" Michael felt his body jolt upwards and air return to his lungs. Sound had returned and for the first time in a long time he felt completely serene.**

"You're a lucky man Mr. Jackson. You should be taking a stroll down the streets of gold right now; God must have taken a liking to you." Dr. Ross stood at the foot of his bed and stared down at a metal clip board that he had in hand. Dr. Ross had come in shortly after he had been resuscitated and stabilized. "There are not many people who can take in as much medication as you did and live to tell about it." "Live…" Michael murmured, his throat was still sore from that coughing fit he had. "Yes, live. You will live at least today anyway. If you keep going on like this your luck is going to run out very soon!" He began writing something on his clipboard and then started to examine what seemed like a horde of machines that surrounded Michael's bed. "Where, where are my kids?" Michael's voice came out in a raspy whisper. "They were here earlier, in the waiting room with some of your family members. No one is allowed back here for now. You don't need to overly exert yourself. But if all goes well we'll be able to move you to a less restricted part of the hospital as early as tomorrow evening." "I…need to see my…kids." Michael insisted and again made the mistake of lifting his head. With a grunt his head fell back, defeated. "You see, no exertion is what I said. Please Mr. Jackson you will only do more harm to yourself if you don't listen to me." 


End file.
